The Devils Child
by ParanoiaPoliticianDiva77
Summary: The story of the Opera Ghost’s childhood, moving from an abusive family to a reckless gypsy camp, from the beautiful underground labyrinth of the Paris Opera to the spice scented airs of the Persian court. Based on the Gaston Leroux novel the ALW musical/


_Author's Note: yes, what happened was that I wrote this years ago, stopped updating it though it was completely finished and realised that when I had actually written it I was ridiculously illiterate and stupid. I was 15 then. I'm now 17. So I'll try it again; I've basically revised it, rewrote sections that needed major tweaking etc._

_So yes, enjoy._**Chapter One**

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_Donatienne panted and screamed as a baby's cries sent waves through the air; a child's first cries as its mother lay back in exhaustion._

It was in Persia that a young French couple had made their home, the husband being the French ambassador, working for the Shah; Donatienne and Frederic seemed to live a life of haughty luxury.

_As the midwife wrapped the babe in a soft blue blanket, a blood curdling scream echoed throughout the birthing chamber._

Frederic was always strong handsome man, smooth caramel skin, perfectly shaped lips and dark blonde hair. Donatienne was the opposite of Frederic, long thick black hair falling down her back, and with soft curls weaved throughout it, the young woman was equally beautiful, with skin of such creamy porcelain and dark green eyes.

_Donatienne sat up as a child was thrown in her arms, and her body shook with rage, animal like noises escaping her lips._

The couple were good friends, though they did not love each other. An arranged marriage, a marriage for society; both were members of the French upper class, unforgivably wealthy, the two suited each other's needs, neither of them looking or caring for love.

Thus, there was no need or care for guilt from Donatienne when she'd spend an afternoon in bed with Frederic's colleague or the handsome stable boy. She was a housewife, bored and waiting for her husband to return home and they could go out to parties and meetings. Donatienne felt no concern about whether she got pregnant or not, until it happened.

_A monster child…_

Donatienne had not thought it through when she decided go for a morning stroll around the strange foreign city of Tehran, and upon becoming bored with the exotic marketplaces and dazzling palaces, the young woman cut through a dark alleyway.

Diseased chickens in coops, missing more than half their feathers and Donatienne shuddered when she saw the hungry beggar children. They were like tiny bags of bones, and she screamed when they came to her, their little brown palms held out. Once she shooed them away, the finely dressed woman cut though a dank passageway, hoping it was the way out.

Fresh air met her face and her green eyes passed over her surroundings; the road to her home was clear. But a grimy hand placed itself on her shoulder and Donatienne screamed as she turned to see a living corpse a hold of her.

His eyes rolled, his face resembled a crumbled mess, and as she shrieked the thing covered her mouth, her eyes widening.

This man had hardly any hair, only four thick black locks though he only looked eighteen years old, her own age. He grinned at her, a mouth filled with broken rotting teeth, gnashing like a predatory animal's.

A great black hole served as the nose that had never grown and it was the _lack_ of this nose that threw such terror into young Donatienne. His was a head of death, a corpse whose skin on his left side was yellow flaking parchment, pulled and stretched over his face, like a living skull, but the right side slowly bubbled red, pockmarked and inflamed, molten with lumps and bumps. This monster was incredibly thin, his height towering over Donatienne's, his ragged clothes hanging off his body as if he hadn't eaten for months, though there was no signs of starvation.

He snarled in Persian at her, a wicked sarcasm pinching at his thin ripped lips and the woman felt his hands running over her body cruelly, finding every crevice and corner.

Clutching her by the shoulders with long, thin yellowed fingers, the man forced her back into the dark passageway. Shrieking, the girl was pushed to the ground and the man laughed as he plunged violently into her once, then once again.

He threw her to the side as he stood, pulling his breeches back up, spitting on the shaking and sobbing woman. But as he realised her eyes still gazed fearfully upon his face, the monster's expression changed from triumph to rage.

He roared in frustration at her, furiously pointing at his face, as she gabbled in French through her sobbing, trying to tell him she couldn't understand him.

Pulling Donatienne to her feet, the monster struck Donatienne across the face, and shaking his head he pushed her out of the alleyway, spitting on her again as she blinked in the sunlight.

The girl wept as she walked home, trying to make sense of the man. What was it that he had said to her? What had happened to his face? A deformity? Surely nature could not have created such a monster, that man could not have come from a woman. What a monstrous gift to be given, for life? Donatienne could not bear to think of it, no empathy could emerge for that man who had hurt her like that.

She tried to forget about that day; pushing it from her mind, Donatienne decided to be more careful with her shortcuts next time, to bring an escort with her and not just sneak out. She then continued on with her life.

One month later, Donatienne sat at the end of her bed, paralysed in fear, crying at what she had just realised. Frederic had been so exhausted and busy from his diplomatic affairs that they had not made love for several months now, and as Donatienne was still recovering from the incident, she did not resume her affairs she had carried out beforehand.

There was only one man who could be causing her illness every morning and her course two weeks late.

Donatienne sent for a doctor, her pregnancy was confirmed and the doctor was left confused when his patient burst into tears, and soon had a temper tantrum, throwing breakables at the stone walls.

When Frederic came home that Donatienne breathed slowly as she clutched her stomach in fear, knowing he would rage when she told him.

"I'm with child" the words spilled from her mouth and Frederic looked at her in confusion.

"How long?" she gulped.

"One month so far" the uneasiness in Donatienne was obvious and Frederic's face whitened.

"We haven't…" he said slowly and she nodded.

"But it was not of my choice, I tried to fight him off but…" she began to protest. There was a blow to her face, the emerald earrings glittering in panic as they swung from her lobes.

"Didn't you realise? You're not very careful in who you bloody well sleep with Donna! Jahangir, my colleague, said some snide comment that I must be the only one my wife wasn't putting out for! You've had affair after affair! Don't you give me some tale of rape and violation!" he shouted, picking up a vase and throwing it at the wall.

"I'm sorry!" she screamed but he grabbed her and pinned her against the wall, her eyes filled with fear and she quivered at his furious touch.

"Sorry? I'm not" he hissed and struck her again. Donatienne's knees buckled as she fell to the floor and grabbed hold of the mantel, trying to get up but he kicked her shins and she fell. He kicked her stomach and she screamed in pain.

"No! The baby!" she shrieked as tears cascaded across her cheeks and onto the fine carpet

"What? Some bastard won't survive to see the light of day? You whore! You actually want to keep it?" he hissed threateningly into her ear and kicked her once more before storming from the room, leaving Donatienne in a heap on the ground, clutching her stomach with fear.

"Please let him live, please," she prayed silently as her ladies maid was sent in to clean her mistress up.

But for this Donatienne was lucky, and grew increasingly grateful as her belly grew with the baby. Soon she could feel the child kicking inside, this filling her with such joy despite the fact that Frederic would never love him.

Frederic was no longer her friend, with his pride wounded as his friends joked that his wife had to have an affair to get a child, the man was only cold bitter to the lonely woman that married him. Donatienne was once frivolous and vain, living her life in luxury, not giving a thought to appreciate her position in life, young and carefree. Now without her husband inviting her to accompany him to parties, Donatienne sat at home in bed, fat and unwanted, the loneliest woman in Persia.

After these gruelling nine months, Donatienne's water broke in the early hours of the morning, seven hours of contractions following, her pain intermingled with the fear brought on from the horror stories the midwives told of miscarriages as they sat around, waiting.

Donatienne panted and screamed as she finally pushed the child out of her, a baby's cries sending waves through the air; a child's first cries as its mother lay back in exhaustion.

As the midwife wrapped the babe in a soft blue blanket, a blood curdling scream echoed throughout the birthing chamber.

Donatienne sat up as a child was thrown in her arms, and her body shook with rage, animal like noises escaping her lips.

_A monster child…_

The baby was inhuman…half of his face was red, pockmarked and blistered, sparse hair only covering one side of his head. His right ear was just a lump of skin and cartilage and the right side of his nose crumbled away into nothing, creating an unbalanced indent in his face, as if the nose had melted and caved in.

The left side of his face looked completely normal, healthy as any other babe, but his right side seemed as if it had been corroded by acid. The only feature that remained the same for both sides were his blue eyes, the same as any baby's, though they were deeply set in his sockets, creating darkened rings about them.

Donatienne's eyes widened to the size of dinner plates and her screams soon echoed throughout the large house.

"No! No!" she cried as the baby wails joined hers.

Frederic entered the room at his wife's screaming and turned white at the sight of the deformed baby in her arms, backing away slowly.

"Not only are you a whore, but you can't produce anything but a whore's child" a snarl came from his cruelly twisted mouth Frederic stormed from the room as the midwives comforted the weeping Donatienne.

"It looks as if its only surface, it's not hurting him or unhealthy." One of the midwives examined the child who was now suckling happily at its mother's breast, Donatienne staring at it with disgust "There was obviously something wrong early in the pregnancy…you didn't fall onto your stomach did you?" one of the women asked her seriously as the baby suckled at Donatienne's bosom.

"I might've" Donatienne said faintly as she remembered Frederic's beatings. She now stared with loathing at the monster in her arms.

The thing was quiet and content in its mother's arms now but all Donatienne wanted was for him to be taken away, drowned or beaten; done away with.

"We'll never know. What shall you call him?" the second midwife asked and Donatienne hesitated, biting her lip; she had planned to call him Charles, Charles Frederic De Langrishe. But not now, the thought was laughable.

"Erik, Erik Géraud De Langrishe" and the midwives left the room.

The young mother glared at the baby, hatred mounting inside her for the small pathetic being in her arms; this monster was only minutes old and yet had caused such hatred from her husband, such rejection from her friends.

Donatienne looked at the child as her green eyes glowered with fury.

"And may he regret ever being born"

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End file.
